


With Every Breath You Take

by korilove



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Trapped In Elevator, cocky!stiles, i hate you but you are attactive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-18 11:56:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2347631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/korilove/pseuds/korilove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Don't play dumb." He says as he leans closer to her. She can feel his breath on her neck, hot and heavy. "You're smarter than that." "Am I?" She whispers. "You tell me."</p><p>The cocky neighbor and the girl who doesn't give him the time of day just happen to get trapped in an elevator.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Every Breath You Take

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my latest fic, or better known as "I have no life, please read my terrible muses". Unbeta'd as always.  
> Happy reading!xoxo

The tension in the elevator is thick and palpable. It feels so stuffy that Lydia can barely breathe. It's almost as if the air has been replaced by toxic smoke - she can almost feel herself choke on it. It shouldn't really be the case however, as there's only one other person in the cabin. The cocky motherfucker from apt 68B, just down the hall from her apartment.

He's always spewing about some nonsense - not that she actually pays attention to what he says. Mostly she rolls her eyes and tunes out his incessant talking like he's another annoying client she has to deal with. Not that her clients are usually as good looking.

He's taller than she is, as she has been cursed with short genes. He's a bit lanky, but just enough that it looks like he doesn't have to work at his physique. His dark brown hair is just long enough that it sticks up in different directions. Light brown eyes accompany his hair, and he has just enough scruff for Lydia to know that he trims it to look that way. He's dressed in dark blue jeans and a red-and-blue-plaid button down. He's usually donning some dark rimmed glasses, but not tonight.

Lydia tears her eyes away from the beautiful but annoying stranger and huffs a sigh. She pulls out her phone, trying to make the elevator ride go by faster. She has 30 unread emails and 3 missed calls from the office, and that's just from today.

"Uh.." She hears her neighbor start, and she rolls her eyes. _Here we go._

But nothing comes of it as she realizes what he was referring to.

The lights flicker in the cabin and the elevator lurches. Lydia drops her phone as the usual swift upward movement of the elevator comes to an abrupt stop. _Great. I don't have time for this!_

Sighing, her riding companion lifts himself from the floor - did he seriously just fall over? - and makes his way to the control box. He pushes the call button, and the alarm rings out for about 3 seconds before cutting out. "Oh for the Love of God." Comes his voice, as he forcefully pushes the button again, but this time nothing happens.

She watches as he pushes it over and over frantically like an idiot - rolling her eyes a few times before deciding to break her cold silence. "Pushing it over and over isn't going to make it work, genius."

"Like I don't know that!" He spits at her before he drops his hand from the control box. He rubs his hands over his face in apparent frustration, before sliding down the side of the elevator cabin to the floor.

Lydia scoffs and rolls her eyes again as she moves over to her phone. "I'll just call the landlord-" She says, but when she picks up her phone, she sees the screen is cracked. She tries unlocking it, but the screen stays black.

"So much for that brilliant idea." He says, obviously able to see that her phone is broken. "Looks like we're gonna be here a while."

"Great." She says sarcastically before dropping down to the floor and crossing her legs in front of her.

 

* * *

 

"I'm Stiles by the way." He says, breaking the 20 minute silence.

She looks up from her black and grey dress and sees that he's in the same position as she is, only on the other side of the cabin. "Stiles?" She asks incredulously, one eyebrow raised.

"Stiles Stilinski. It's a nickname. You don't want to know my real name - in fact no one does. My parents are particularly evil when it comes to naming apparently." He says matter-of-factually.

Lydia manages a small-but-obviously-fake smile. "Nice to meet you." She says, letting the venom in her voice be apparent.

"And you are?" He asks sweetly, raising his eyebrows at her.

"Lydia Martin, Stanford class of 2016, CFO of Haliburton." She replies nonchalantly, not even bothering to look up at him again.

"Harvard, 2016, editor-in-chief of NYT." Comes his response, even though she was not expecting one.

 _NYT?_ That sparks some interest. "The New York Times?" She asks.

"The one and only."

 _Impressive._ "They let someone like you make decisions in a successful newspaper?" She questions.

She looks up from her lap again to see him giving her a look of mock hurt. "And what exactly do you mean?" He has his right hand splayed over his chest, as if she's broken his heart.

She bites her lip and swallows before answering him. "Just, you don't really look like you fit into that mold."

"The glasses don't do it?" He asks her, and she laughs. "Maybe they help."

They fall into silence again, but it's more comfortable than before. Though, he's still ridiculous. Stiles? What kind of name is that? And he still seethes over confidence.

He clears his throat a few minutes later, and seemingly tries to start their conversation again. "So, are you originally from New York?"

She nods. "Born and raised." She contemplates just letting it end there, but she finds herself curious. "You?"

"Nah, originally from Cali." He says. "Just a small town outside Sacramento."

"Oh. I've never been." She replies.

"Really? It's gorgeous. Although, nothing like L.A. or long beach, its much warmer than here." He's talking with his hands, obviously enthusiastic about his hometown.

"Yeah, you kinda bleed coolness if you live here long enough." Her answer comes easily.

She lets herself inspect him a bit more. He's wearing a watch on his left arm - expensive, she can tell - and there's no rings on his fingers. Speaking of fingers, his are incredibly long, looking like if he could bend them the right way - yeah he definitely knows how to use them if he's oozing this much confidence all the time. She wonders if it's justified or not.

She brushes her red curls out from the nape of her neck, the AC in the elevator must have stopped when they came to a halt. The heat is starting to get to her, since it is the middle of July.

"So what were you so frustrated about?" She asks, not wanting to go back to the silence.

He pops his lips before answering, and she wonders if he has an oral fixation. "It's just been a train wreck of a day, and being stuck in an elevator is just the fucking proverbial cherry on top." He pops his lips again on the p.

She tries not to stare at his lips but it's proving to be difficult. As if he knows somehow, his tongue darts out and over them, and then he presses them together again. She bites her lip before responding. "I know how you feel."

She feels her dress sticking to her back and the heat inside the cabin starts to become as thick as the tension had been before. She breathes out a sigh before getting to her feet again, the heels she's wearing clicking on the floor as she makes her way over to the control box. She presses the call button, but nothing happens.

"What, do you think I didn't press it hard enough?" Stiles asks her, cocking an eyebrow. She rolls her eyes. "It was worth a shot."

"Is the tension getting to be too much for you?" He asks her, standing up from his spot on the floor, an evil grin on his lips.

"What tension?" She feigns confusion, but she knows this attraction isn't just one sided - he's made passes at her plenty of times before since she moved into the building a year ago.

He's dangerously close to her now, she can smell his cologne - fresh and clean, not the kind that almost makes you choke. He brushes her hair away from her face with his hand, placing it over her shoulder. As he does, his fingertips brush her collarbone and she swears she feels herself shiver.

"Don't play dumb." He says as he leans closer to her. She can feel his breath on her neck, hot and heavy. "You're smarter than that." His words ghost past her ear, and she can feel the electricity between them. She can just imagine his smugness as she feels his lips touch the skin just under her ear.

"Am I?" She whispers, and he straightens out, facing her again. His hands trace her waist and she feels the heat become unbearable as a smile spreads across his features. "You tell me." He says, raising an eyebrow.

Her eyes flicker from his lips to his eyes, and then back again. _This is a bad idea._ She thinks, but her body is already reacting on it's own. She gives in and pulls him closer as she kisses him forcefully.

His lips are rough, the scruff pricking at her skin. He makes a contented noise as he reaches one of his hands into her hair, those long fingers cradling her head. She sighs into him as he takes control of the kiss, opening her lips to him. He tastes unfamiliar, but there's a certain sweetness to it. His tongue is soft against hers as he explores her mouth, and the heat starts to burn hotter than before.

He backs her up to the wall of the cabin, and she feels his hands move from her hair down her back, over the swell of her ass, and then lifting gently at her thighs. She leans on the wall and wraps her legs around him, her heels dropping to the floor. His hands roam her back as he moves from her lips to her neck. She can feel her heart racing and her breaths coming in faster pants as he finds a sensitive spot in the crook of her neck.

"Oh fuck." She swears, unable to keep it from tumbling out. She feels him smirk against her - and she swears all her rational thoughts escape her. Especially because she finds herself liking it.

She runs her hands over his biceps and is surprised at the definition she finds there. Apparently he just appears to be lanky. She runs her hands up underneath the button down, there are thick corded muscles lining his stomach. She grabs the edges of the fabric and pulls the shirt over his head. He only breaks contact with her skin long enough for the shirt to drop to the floor, and he's attacking with his lips again. She maps out his chest muscles with her fingers, and she feels herself arching into him. His hands move over her breasts as he kisses her lips again. He kneads them through her dress before reaching into it and lifting them out. She can't even think, which is not a regular occurrence for her.

She's reaching for the hem of his jeans, starts to undo his belt as he's dueling with her tongue, when suddenly the elevator lurches. The light flickers and it starts moving again.

The movement of the elevator has apparently brought them both to their senses, as Stiles jolts away from her. Lydia presses her lips together in frustration as she fixes her dress, unable to look in his direction.

The elevator dings as they reach the 6th floor, and the doors open just as Lydia's pulling her heels back on. She flicks her hair back behind her neck and struts out of the cabin, not even bothering to take a second look.

"That was fun, wanna do it again sometime?" Stiles' voice rings out, and she's sure he's overcompensating the confidence in his tone. "Not Likely!" She yells back.

Even if it was more than a little bit of a lie.


End file.
